Gemma and Imara both nodded before Christian helped Gemma back onto her feet and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The corners of his eyes creased as he gave her a soft smile, and then they were off again.
Every few kilometers, fatigue forced them to stop, each break stretching a little longer than the last. Luckily, when Gemma contemplated crawling on her hands and knees, Christian halted their progression.
“Let’s camp here,” he said. “It’s as flat an area as we’re going to see for a while. We’ll need to cover a solid twelve hours of distance tomorrow, so let’s rest as much as we can.”
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Colton asked, dropping his backsack.
Christian flinched. “You can only learn so much from reading books.” He pulled his shelter out of his backsack before Colton could peg him with more questions.
Gemma did the same, trying to set up her shelter, but no matter how many different ways she twisted and turned the fabric, it never morphed out of its little square.
“Here.” Christian held out his hand.
Sighing, Gemma placed the shelter in his palm. For as much training as she’d done with the Dissent, she still felt like a complete amateur in nearly every aspect of life.
Her chest tightened. Reymond had prepared her to die, not to be useful. Compared to her teammates, she was worthless.
Christian set the cube on the ground and hit it with his fist. As he stepped back, the cube grew and lengthened until it was big enough to house one person.
“Seriously? You set it on the ground and hit it?” Gemma glared up at Christian.
He smirked, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll make a hunter out of you yet, Proctor.”
A low, animalistic growl came from a short distance away, and Christian’s eyes turned fierce.
“Get your weapon out,” Christian warned Gemma, loud enough for the others to hear.
The five of them scrambled for their knives and guns then stood back-to-back in the center of their shelters.
“Lights on,” Christian instructed, and they all ensured the torchlights on their chests were illuminated.
A second low growl came from the opposite direction. Then a third and a fourth.
Christian lifted his rifle, positioning it against his shoulder.
Gemma would’ve done the same if she had more confidence in her ability to hit her target. Instead, she gripped her dagger tighter and scanned the distance for any signs of movement.
Red eyes appeared at the edge of the darkness, right where the glow from their torchlights failed to reach. Christian fired, his bullet passing between where the red eyes had been.
But there was nothwapof ammo hitting flesh—and Gemma swore she heard a laugh.
“What are these things?” Imara asked.
“I don’t know,” Christian replied, a deep frown in his voice.
For what felt like hours, they stood, poised and ready to defend, but the red eyes never stepped into the light. The creatures circled them like prey, their growls laced with an animalistic hunger.
“Should we...Do we keep standing here?” Imara interjected into the silence.
“They obviously don’t like the light,” Colton replied. “But I don’t know if we should turn our backs on them.”
“Anybody have anything to start a fire with?” Hawk asked, and Gemma heard the shifting of a suit.
“Everyone has an infernoblock in their packs,” Christian replied.
Colton snorted. “Do you even know how to use one, Gallowood?”
“Theoretically,” Hawk mumbled.
